


and if the stars should fall from the sky (i will put them all back in time)

by Piehead



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Accidental Dimension Travel, Alternate Universe, But Not Technically Clones, Clones, Dimension Travel, Fluff, He didn't even do it on purpose, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Pizza Sins, you read right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 13:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16703413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piehead/pseuds/Piehead
Summary: “Who are you?” they say in unison. Now Kent’s a little freaked out.“I’m Kent Parson.” They do it again.“No you’re not.”“This is fucking weird.”They stop speaking and him-with-glasses crosses his arms, looking like he wants to fold in on himself and disappear for eternity. Kent doesn’t think he can blame him, because he feels the same urge, but he really can’t bring himself to do the same thing because one of them has to assert authority. This is his world that the other Kent is in.“What the fuck is happening,” Kent demands.Or, the one where Kent Parson the hockey player meets Kent Parson the scientist, and the world keeps spinning.





	and if the stars should fall from the sky (i will put them all back in time)

**Author's Note:**

> _I know I know I know / that you're not happy here / there's no need to say it_
> 
> Kudos to whoever knows what song this is from lol But Yes Hello Hi this is like three months in the making. Maybe longer. I love this fic a Lot right now because its? Self care, in a way.

When they meet, neither of them entirely comprehend what’s happening.

Kent feels… he doesn’t know what he feels, when he’s standing before him. Himself? The guy looks like the mirror image of himself, except he’s wearing glasses and Kent knows this guy has to be different because he never let himself be the kid that needed glasses. But other than that… they’re the exact same. Same height, same build, same mildly vacant expression in their eyes. Kent finds himself growing a bit frustrated, because he can’t even tell what color his eyes  _ are _ and for the first time he feels like Swoops, who gets drunk and stares at his eyes and says a different color every time.

“Who are you?” they say in unison. Now Kent’s a little freaked out.

“I’m Kent Parson.” They do it again.

“No you’re not.”

“This is fucking weird.”

They stop speaking and him-with-glasses crosses his arms, looking like he wants to fold in on himself and disappear for eternity. Kent doesn’t think he can blame him, because he feels the same urge, but he really can’t bring himself to do the same thing because  _ one _ of them has to assert authority. This is  _ his  _ world that the other Kent is in.

“What the fuck is happening,” Kent demands.

The other Kent pushes his glasses up and Kent can’t help thinking he looks really fucking cute. He usually looks in the mirror and thinks the man staring back at him is cute, but looking at himself-with-glasses feels a hell of a lot like… more.

“I fucked up in my lab,” Kent-with-glasses says, and Kent-without-glasses thinks he needs to figure out another name to call himself, because “himself-with-glasses” is fucking weird and the guy deserves an actual name that isn’t fucking stupid.

“I was working on my latest project when Kit pushed a lever and the next thing I knew I was being pulled apart and put back together as I fell through space and time—”

Kent listens with half an ear. In doing so he slowly puts together that him-with-glasses is likely from another universe (and isn’t that fucking weird?) and somehow managed to get sucked through some portal or other that sent him to a different universe than his own. Kent steps closer while him-with-glasses is still explaining, gesturing and talking with his full body and looking so much more different than Kent, somehow.

“Kenny,” he decides, because it feels more appropriate.

Him-with-glasses stops suddenly, when he realizes Kent is in his personal space. “What?”

“I’m gonna call you Kenny.”

“Oh.”

Him-with-glasses— _ Kenny _ —averts his gaze when Kent stands in front of him. Now that they’re face to face, up close and personal, Kent can see that they aren’t  _ really _ eye to eye; there’s at least a two inch difference between them, which doesn’t make sense to Kent but he doesn’t question it. He’s maybe a bit peeved that he’s two inches shorter than himself but that’s just circumstance. Maybe Kenny had a glass of milk when Kent pushed it away one time and it helped in the extra growth spurt?

“I don’t even like milk,” Kenny states, his expression annoyed now.

Kent thinks they might be able to read each other’s minds.

“Before you start thinking I read your mind I want you to know that, like, I’m literally you. We have the same thought processes.”

Kent snorts and finally backs away. He doesn’t notice the bit of color that tinges Kenny’s cheeks and he doesn’t notice that Kenny lets out a breath he’s been holding in a shaky sigh. Instead, Kent takes notice of the resounding rumble of Kenny’s stomach and raises a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Pizza?” he asks.

“God, yes,” Kenny groans, following after Kent now from the living room to the front door. He pauses when they reach the door, biting his lip. “Maybe I should stay here?”

“Why?” Kent frowns, not wanting to just… leave himself in his apartment.

Kenny mumbles something about time anomalies and the potential for collapsed universes. Kent follows but shakes his head, assuming it’s more so because Kenny doesn’t want anyone to see them together out in public, because how strange is it to be out and about with someone who was exactly you in every way possible?

“Twins don’t count,” they said in unison, but it made them both smile.

“Look, I know this super niche pizza place hidden in Vegas. New York style,” Kent offers.

Kenny blinks a bit owlishly. “Vegas? As in… Las Vegas? Viva Las Vegas?”

“You sound like a tourist.”

Kenny bit his lip again, but this time it’s to hide a tiny laugh. “It’s just kind of strange. I was kind of wondering where I ended up? Like, fuck, I don’t know? I’m glad it isn’t a universe where I don’t believe in multiverse theory.”

Kent wants to punch and kiss himself simultaneously. So  _ this _ was what Scraps was always talking about.

“Yeah? What universe did you come from?” Kent asks, even though he’s already hazarded a couple guesses.

“I went to college. Pursued engineering and physics. Dabbled in astronomy a bit too.” There’s something Kenny isn’t saying, something that makes Kent think back to his decisions in previous years.

“What about hockey?” he asked, handing Kenny their favourite pair of sandals. Kenny takes them without really thinking, slipping them on his feet.

“Mom was supportive but Dad didn’t want me playing professionally so I didn’t.”

That… changes a lot. That changes so much more than Kent first thought. No hockey means no draft and no Jack—

“And anyway I didn’t have a future in hockey,” Kenny continued, a bit oblivious now to Kent’s thoughts. He had no idea how different they really were.

“What makes you think that?” Kent’s weirdly defensive, remembering his own father’s words in regards to hockey.

“I was an ace at skating, but like, there wasn’t a guarantee I’d ever be good enough to play on a team. Jack… Jack was good. Jack was fucking amazing.” The way Kenny talks about Zimmermann makes Kent jealous, because there isn’t the same undercurrent of pain, there isn’t the heartbreak. “He went to college too, anyway, and I’m kind of glad? The pressure got to a guy we knew and he overdosed on his meds. It was terrifying.”

Kent doesn’t want to talk about this, anymore.

“Pizza, nerd, come on.” He deflects on reflex, because it’s easier to act like he’s just hungry than it is to address the fact that their lives branched off from each other the moment Kenny stepped away from hockey. He doesn’t want to think about the differences from there, he doesn’t want to think about a Jack that never overdosed, went to college, lived a happy life probably. He doesn’t want to talk about how Kenny’s life must have been better in every way.

Why did they still have that same vacant look, though?

“Okay so fuck that nerd shit,” Kenny says, sounding mildly annoyed. “We have the same brain. You’re a nerd too.”

“I didn’t torture myself by studying physics.”

“Touche.”

In what universe did he say touche? Kent’s finding more and more differences as they go. He locks his apartment door and they head down the stairs. Kent pats his pockets down for his car keys and nods to himself when he pulls them out. Kenny stares a bit, eyeing the car keys warily.

“What? Don’t tell me you can’t drive,” Kent says when he notices the look. Kenny bites his lip again and Kent thinks that might be a nervous habit that needs to be broken.

“I kind of just took the bus everywhere. And I slept in the labs a lot of time because my research was important. Shit, don’t give me that look!” Kenny groans when Kent stares at him and then bursts into laughter. Kent doesn’t know when he’s laughed like that last. It feels… really nice. Airy. Like he’s let go of something while doing it.

“You slept in  _ labs _ , dude, you totally deserve this,” he chuckles. He doesn’t notice the way Kenny bristles a bit, but he does notice that Kenny takes his time getting  _ into _ the car.

“Are you afraid of cars are something?” he asks.

“Just the people that drive them,” Kenny deadpans. Kent feels like he should be offended, but instead he’s just a bit charmed. Their sense of humor was still pretty much the same then.

“Swoops never complains about my driving,” Kent pouts, more playful than anything else, while he reverses out of his parking spot and then drives out of the lot, very carefully because he can see that after school activities have finally let out and he’ll be damned if any of these kids get hurt on his watch.

“Swoops?”

Right, no hockey.

“He’s kind of like my best friend? He comes by, makes sure I’m alive, we get food sometimes, you know,” Kent describes their relationship as best he can. He’s never really thought about how invaluable Swoops is to him, not until now, because some mornings he won’t get up and then Swoops is there, urging him out of bed, promising that the day will be better if he just lets it try to be. Kent wonders why he’s never properly thanked him.

“Oh.” Kenny picks at a loose thread in his seat. “I’m—is he good to you?”

That’s an unexpected question, but Kent knows the answer. “Yeah. He’s good.”

They lapse into silence and for the first time Kent thinks they aren’t having the same thoughts right now. He doesn’t want to consider where Kenny’s mind could have gone, because he knows it probably involves the relationships in his life that have gone sour. He chooses instead to turn on the radio. His favourite station always comes through for him when he hears Britney. He’s discreet when he peeks at Kenny out of the corner of his eye, but smiles when he sees him bobbing his head to the music. He’s glad they both still love Britney.

The ride lasts five more minutes and then Kent’s parallel parking and pushing quarters into the meter. Kenny glances at it and thinks nearly two hours is a long time to be getting pizza. There’s no way they should take that long.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Kent says, “It’ll make someone else’s day.”

Kenny doesn’t let Kent see the small smile that graces his features. He pushes his glasses up and they head into the pizza shop. It smells like the shop down on E and 13th street, the one that does the specialty slices he loves.

“You thinkin’ what I am?” Kent asks, when they’re walking up to the counter. Kenny smirks, and Kent can  _ really _ see their resemblance now.

“Pineapples and mushrooms with olive oil,” they say in unison, and now Kent feels like he could actually marry himself.

“You two are pretty in tune with each other,” the employee behind the counter, Jude, says, looking a bit awed.

Kenny shrugs, the same thing Kent was going to do. “It’s telepathy, man. And advanced cloning. You know, like Dolly the sheep?”

Now he was just fucking with Jude. Jude looks at Kenny, eyebrows scrunching together. Kenny pulls his glasses off and stares the guy down, which leads to Jude looking between them. From Kent to Kenny and then back to Kent and then back to Kenny again. He looks a bit terrified for the moment, and like he might believe just about anything.

“We’re fucking with you,” Kent finally says, giving Jude a smile. “We’re twins.”

“Identical,” Kenny goes along with the lie easily, putting his glasses back on. Jude nods, slowly, accepting the explanation for what it was.

“You never mentioned a twin, Parson.”

Kent makes a noise that isn’t disagreement or agreement. “We went our separate ways after high school. Kenneth didn’t wanna do hockey like I did.”

Kenny looks at him out of the corner of his eye, as if to say  _ Really? Kenneth was the best you could come up with? _

Kent gives him a look that says  _ Better than Keith. _

“What’s Kenneth do?” Jude asks, looking interested. Kent had nearly forgotten that Jude took every opportunity he had to flirt. He hopes Kenny is alright with it, but they  _ are  _ the same (almost), so he should have been fine, right? He could deflect advances.

“Science—I’m a scientist,” Kenny shrugs, “Lots of numbers and equations and symbols that shouldn’t exist in daily life but do.”

Jude nodded along, looking as though he wanted to shoot his shot with Kenny since he was usually getting rejected by Kent. Kent didn’t know if he was feeling jealousy or some weird need to do the same.

“He’s just visiting. His flight back to MIT is tomorrow morning,” he cut in.

“Oh. Well, it was nice meeting you, Kenneth,” Jude said. Kenny smiled and Kent felt a bit jealous that it looked better on him than it did on Kent. Which was stupid, because they were the same damn person. He tried not to think too hard about it, though, because the biggest thing was the fact that Kenny was smiling. Swoops always said he looked better with a smile on his face, and for once Kent could actually see it.

“Pizza, Jude?” he inquired.

“You know Jude the Dude’s got you covered, Kent,” Jude smirked. “Yo! Maurice!”

“What?” a deep voice shouted from the back of the shop.

“Kent’s here!”

“Took him long enough!”

Maurice appeared from the back, a tall man with long hair. He held a pizza box in his hands, smiling down at Kent and Kenny. He seemed surprised immediately when he looked between them.

“Twins,” Jude snorted, already knowing what Maurice was confused about. Understanding dawned on Maurice’s features.

“Your wikipedia page says you’ve only got a sister, Parser,” Maurice said now.

“My wikipedia page also has a section dedicated to my brief obsession with horses,” Kent replied. “Point being, it was edited.”

Kenny looked at Kent out of the corner of his eye, surprised at how easily Kent was able to lie to people that seemed to be his friends. He didn’t make any comment, though, because it would be hard to explain that he had actually come from another reality, one where he didn’t live in Vegas and thought that Jude looked to be his type. Tall, dark hair, expressive eyes.

“If you say so, Kent.” Maurice handed over the pizza box. Kent took it graciously. “And  _ were _ you ever obsessed with horses?”

Kent was already on his way out the door, but he tossed a smile over his shoulder that was meant to be mysterious, and seemed to work well in making Maurice and Jude suspicious. Kenny followed behind closely, peeking back once to give a slight wave. When they were back in the car, Kent passed the pizza over and sighed.

“So liking Barbie and Her Sisters In A Pony Tale meant we had an obsession with horses?” Kenny asked, unable to keep quiet.

Kent groaned softly. “You like  _ one movie _ about horses and people edit your wikipedia page to Hell.”

“Sounds like fun.” Kenny paused. Kent saw him biting his lip again, but this time Kent knew it was because he was trying not to say something.

“What?” Might as well talk about it.

Kenny hesitated for only a second. “I don’t have a wikipedia page.”

Kent started up the car. The meter still had a good hour and a half on it but Kent thought nothing if it as he pulled out of the spot and headed towards home. Kenny flipped the pizza box open and pulled out a slice.

“Man, I’d love to go to like, a casino for once,” he said around a mouthful of pizza.

“Dude,” Kent snorted, “you wouldn’t. They’re tourist traps.”

“I’m a tourist!”

Kent looked at Kenny, as if to go  _ bullshit _ and smiled when Kenny looked away.

“Tell you what.” Kent merged into the far left lane, to go left instead of straight. “I’ll take you to my favourite spot in the city. You’ll love it.”

Kenny took another bite of pizza. “Alright. Then what?”

Kent glared out of the corner of his eye. “Then we figure this shit out some more and talk about our feelings, genius.”

Kenny looks like a scolded puppy when Kent snaps at him, which makes Kent sigh and apologize.

“You need to go back. Someone’s gotta be wondering where you are—”

“Doubt it,” Kenny cuts in, keeping his eyes resolutely forward.

“—or at the least, Kit is looking for you.”

That makes Kenny pause. He looks a little dejected, thinking about Kit now, before he composes himself again. Kent knows he should be keeping his eyes on the road but he keeps watching Kenny, looking at him again and again, mapping the curve of his nose and the way his throat bobs when he swallows. They’re the same but there’s something so  _ different _ about Kenny that Kent can’t put his finger on.

“Kit’s probably fine. Her food dispenser is on a weight based timer so that it knows how much she’s eaten and when,” Kenny shrugs. “Technically, I don’t  _ have _ to go back.”

Kent wants to say something, he wants to ask why Kenny thinks he shouldn’t, he wants to know what’s on the other side of whatever portal that brought him here that’s making Kenny want to stay in a universe that wasn’t his own. He wants to promise that things will get better for Kenny and he wants to  _ mean it _ when he says the words. He wants… so much more for Kenny than he wants for himself (and isn’t that an odd thought because Kenny  _ was _ him… if he’d taken a hard left where hockey was concerned).

Kent wants to say something, but then they’re pulling down a dirt road and the moment to speak has passed. Kenny doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Kent won’t make him.

“Did you eat half the pizza?” Kent asks instead, looking over and at the box, where half the pizza is  _ definitely _ gone.

Kenny looks a little startled, but glances out the window, his cheeks flushing pink. “Yeah I—sorry.”

Kent feels bad for asking now. “No, it’s fine, I’m just like, glad to see we still have the same appetite, you know?”

Kenny doesn’t answer, but his eyes say enough that Kent knows there something about eating Kenny doesn’t want to talk about. Kent feels like he just keeps fucking up with Kenny, because now he sees how really  _ different _ they are, even with the same face, eyes, and hair. They’re so much alike but so vastly opposite that Kent feels like there’s a chasm forming between them even now and—

And he doesn’t want to shut himself out. Or  _ be _ shutout by himself.

Kent remembers Kenny loves astronomy and he hopes, quietly, that it’ll help bridge the gap he’s slowly building.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Kenny’s awed when he looks up and can already spy the brilliant city lights before they’ve even reached the edge of the cliff. Kent pulls up so that the car is parallel to it, almost, so that Kenny can have the better view of the city. Then, he leans his seat back.

“This is my favourite spot in the entire  _ state _ ,” Kent says, “I can still see the city but I can see the stars, too.”

He reaches up and hits a button, making Kenny lookup as the sunroof slides open and the sky is revealed to them. Kenny’s breath hitches, because somehow the stars look so  _ different _ from this sky. Even though they’re the same ones, and the same moon. He has the same view from his own home, and yet this one is so much more. Maybe it’s because the stars back home are somehow lonelier…

“Kent…”

It’s the first time Kenny calls him by their name, the first time he looks truly… not sad. Kent doesn’t know how to be more poetic than that, but Kenny looks and sounds so much happier than he had earlier, the very air around them has shifted.

“Yeah?” Kent breathes, because even if the sunroof is open he’s looking at Kenny, just Kenny.

“It’s beautiful.”

Kent smiles, involuntarily. It feels like the first real smile he’s had in weeks, because he’s genuinely happy he’s made himself happy. He sees Kenny smile, too, and then they’re both smiling at each other and it’s like everything is okay, in just these moments between them. Everything is okay.

They spend maybe two hours there, staring at the stars and the bright Vegas lights. Kent eats the other half of the pizza and tosses the box in the back of the car to be disposed of when they get home. It takes more prodding than Kent would have liked, but eventually he gets Kenny talking about himself more. The stories are all ones Kent knows, because he’s lived them, but there’s something about hearing someone  _ else _ tell it from his own point of view that makes it so much better.

“So you remember when we were like, sixteen? That first playboy mag the guys snuck in,” Kenny says, retelling a story Kent is already familiar with.

“The one Veronica Jules was on, I remember,” Kent laughs, remembering like it was yesterday.

“Right! That one, Letty snuck it in and like, I don’t know who ended up with it in this universe—”

“Coach caught Fuller with it.”

“That’s the thing! Coach caught  _ me _ with it!”

Kent nearly cries from laughter, because he had absolutely  _ refused _ to be caught with that magazine when he was younger. Fuller had been the unlucky bastard to wind up with it, but Kent had figured it was like taking one for the team. “Dude!”

“It was  _ awful _ too, there were stains all over it.” Kenny fell back against his seat, giggling, more loose now than he had been earlier that night.

“You should’ve—”

“—stuck it in Fuller’s bag?” Kenny finishes for Kent, because of  _ course _ that’s what he had been thinking of doing when he got caught. “I was so close to doing it!”

“Man, I don’t remember that ever being as funny as it is now,” Kent sighs. He stares up at the sky, the stars twinkling down on them. It’s like the universe has come to a stop, just for a few minutes, just for them. Kenny’s watching Kent now.

“Thank you,” Kenny says.

Kent glances over, notices the soft look on Kenny’s face now. There had been a fifty foot gap between them earlier that night, but now Kenny’s close enough that Kent can feel every puff of his breath on his face. He turns away.

“For what?” Kent asks, glad for the darkness of the car hiding the redness in his cheeks.

Kenny doesn’t speak, but turns and settles against the seat. He shrugs his shoulders a bit. “I don’t know. But thank you.”

Kent feels like he might be a bit of a narcissist, because he’s  _ so _ glad to have helped himself the way he has. The sheer joy that comes from knowing that Kenny feels better, that comes from knowing  _ he _ helped Kenny feel better, is almost overwhelming. Kent doesn’t even know what it is that he’s done, even though he’s got a hunch that it has to do with helping Kenny open up a little and feel more at ease in his situation.

“It’s no big deal,” Kent replies. “You deserve it.”

Kent hopes Kenny doesn’t feel like he  _ doesn’t _ deserve it, because Kent knows he would if anyone told him that. Even when he remembers how different they are, he can’t forget that they’re still the same person. Their life experiences may have stemmed from taking different paths, but they were still Kent Parson; impulsive, loud, a little sad, but kind in the only ways they know how to be.

Kent’s glad to know that he  _ does  _ know himself, to some extent.

“So how am I gonna get access to the kind of tech I need to find a way home?” Kenny inquires suddenly, startling Kent.

“Huh. That’s a good question.” Kent thinks for a bit, turning again to look at Kenny. Kenny’s still staring up at the stars. He’s grown quiet, his smile fading.

“But there isn’t any rush. We’ll figure this out.” Kent reaches a hand out, hesitantly taking Kenny’s own. It’s weird, holding his own hand. “Hey.”

Kenny looks over, tries not to make it obvious he’s feeling a little emotional. He doesn’t want to go home. He doesn’t want to return to the dimension where he feels like an outcast, where he feels like there’s no one in the world on his side or in his corner, not like the way Kent is. He doesn’t want to return to his daily routines, he doesn’t want to go back to being isolated from the rest of the world because of a mistake.

“...Is it weird to want to kiss you?” Kenny asks, “I mean, like, I know it is but, fuck. I kind of want to?”

“It’s the city lights, romantic setting, all that shit. This… might be where all the teenagers come to make out,” Kent admits, a bit sheepish. Kenny blinks and he snorts, a laugh bubbling up in his throat.

“You mean like some cheesy sixties movie? Is this makeout point?”

“Hey, they call it that, not me!”

Kent watched Kenny try to hide his laughter behind his hands, but fail terribly. He thinks, to himself, that maybe he wants to kiss Kenny, too. When his laughter dies down, Kent says as much.

“I want to, too. To kiss you.” He hopes Kenny doesn’t mind. He hopes Kenny will take the initiative this time, because he doesn’t want to push and fuck this up.

“Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out if we kiss the same.”

It’s the confidence Kenny has that reminds Kent that they’re the same, at the core of themselves. Kenny leans over, eyes slipping shut as he presses his lips against Kent’s. They’re slightly moist, because a pink tongue had poked out to wet them just before they touched Kent’s. Kent thinks he should have expected how soft they are, because he’s relentless in his skin routine. Kenny doesn’t need to be but he is, too, and Kent brings his hand up to cup the back of Kenny’s head and pull him closer.

It becomes more than a simple kiss when Kent feels Kenny’s tongue running along his lips. He doesn’t deny Kenny, letting him in and giving him all he wants, whatever he wants. Kenny makes a soft sound that might be a moan, makes Kent sigh against him and presses until they both need to breathe. Even still, they’re both still in each other’s space, sharing breath, with feelings stirring within them. Kenny is blushing hard, as if this is the first time in a long time that he’s had a proper kiss. Kent thinks he should ask if it is.

He doesn’t, in favor of pressing close for another, chaste, kiss. Kenny tries to follow when Kent pulls away, only managing one more peck before he realizes he’s practically on top of Kent. He moves back into his own seat quickly, his breathing coming in heavier pants and his hands working over themselves.

“That was…” he doesn’t have the words to describe it, but Kent’s breathy laugh reassures him that Kent enjoyed it too.

“Dude, you kiss  _ so _ fucking good,” Kent says. Kenny laughs at him, because he doesn’t really believe it, but then again Kent kisses really well too, and they’re the same person, right? A sort of transitive property had to be in place.

“You’re just saying that because I know how much you like when someone else is in charge,” Kenny says instead.

“How do you know that?” Kent asks, but there’s still a smile tugging at his lips.

“I was like that, one time. And then I got to…” Kenny trailed off, his face redder now. He shook his head. “Anyway, I used to be like that. You didn’t go to college, so I know you’re  _ still _ like that.”

Kenny’s eyes dart down Kent’s body, spies the way Kent’s pants seem a little too  _ tight _ in the crotch. He wants to touch. He wants to reach his hand into Kent’s pants and jack him off like they’re teens, naughty and hoping no one catches them in public like that. He wants to kiss Kent while he does it, too. His conscience keeps him from doing it. His shame and self control force him back into his seat, makes him unable to make eye contact again.

If he was good at what he did he wouldn’t be single, or in this mess, or taking the kind of solace he is in… himself. He’s so fucking pitiful.

Kent doesn’t know what it means when Kenny pulls away. He wants to lean back over, to kiss Kenny again but… he doesn’t want to overstep. Kent already  _ feels _ like he’s overstepped. The way Kenny pulls back into himself, the way he’s closed off so suddenly, the way Kent wants to wrap him up and never let him go…

They’ve known each other for a little less than four hours. Why does Kent already feel like he’s in love?

“We should head back, I think,” Kenny mumbles.

“Yeah,” Kent agrees, but he makes no move to start the car again. Instead, he reaches out, touches Kenny’s hand, takes it into his own. Kenny flinches, but he doesn’t pull away. Progress. “Hey.”

Kenny looks over and sees the way Kent’s watching him. There’s the kind of intensity in his gaze that starts up a feeling in Kenny’s stomach that he doesn’t want to think about. He chooses not to.

“You’re fucking amazing, okay? You’ll figure this shit and I’ll help you where I can.” Kent squeezes Kenny’s hand, gives him a smile that’s meant to be reassuring. Kenny feels like maybe he is amazing, when Kent tells him like that.

They sleep in the same bed that night. Kent ends up being the big spoon, because he knows Kenny needs to be held. He doesn’t mind. If he could, Kent thinks he would never let go. He doesn’t know enough about Kenny to know why he doesn’t want to leave. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he  _ wants _ Kenny to leave. He’s never wanted to try for someone like he wants to try for himself.

After all, when it came down to it, who deserved love more than himself?

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the end seems kind of sudden; this was originally supposed to have porn in it but I've completely lost the ability to write porn it would seem.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Oh, and if you didn't know the song, its "Look Up" by Daley.


End file.
